


Which is Redder: Your face or Your Blood-Stained Shoulder?

by xseaxwitchx



Series: Jaytim Week 2k18 [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fantasy AU, M/M, and fluffiness, but meeting each other, not together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xseaxwitchx/pseuds/xseaxwitchx
Summary: Understudy!Tim patches up Knight!Jason.





	Which is Redder: Your face or Your Blood-Stained Shoulder?

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this silly thing for day 3!

Jason made his way to the Royal Healer’s as per Queen Diana’s request. He fought hard and well in battle, but unfortunately, his opponent managed to strike his shoulder, driving part of the blade clear to Jason’s bone. The injury burned and the pain flared each time he took a heavy step with his right foot. Unfortunately, he couldn’t grip the injury because more pain would flood his body so he had to deal with the scraping cloth and grit his teeth through it.

The journey from the throne room to the healer’s felt so long and drawn out, he thought he might need assistance. Luckily, the wooden door to the healer’s part of the castle came up before he collapsed in pain. He splayed his hand on one side of the doorframe and pounded with the other. The pounding jostled the cloth again and he growled, not wanting to scream in pain.

A muffled voice answered from within followed by the scraping of wood on wood. Jason righted himself again, preparing to walk into the room.

The door opened and a small, black-haired man looked up him, a neutral expression on his face and intelligence glimmering in his eyes. Jason remembered seeing this man a few times trailing along with Dick or Alfred or helping with some new weapons for the fort.

The man quirked a shy smile at Jason, moving from the front of the door to leave room for Jason to enter.

“Sir Todd. Take a seat on the bench and I’ll retrieve the necessities,” the man said.

Jason did as the man said, struggling to remember the man’s name. Started with a “t,” maybe?

“Here, I’ll help you take off your armor and, er, temporary bandage.” The man appeared in front of Jason quicker than he anticipated, throwing him for a loop.

“Uh, okay,” Jason said dumbfounded, his voice coming off as shy.

“If you’re shy about this, would it comfort you to know I’ve seen all the knights’ chests and the queen’s? Nothing to be ashamed about; it’s not like you have anything I don’t,” the man said, attempting to dispel the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Jason didn’t say anything and just stared, following along with the man motions as he took care of removing the armor. The man moved to unwrapping the frankly poor bandage and Jason let out a loud hiss of pain.

“Apologies, but this was poorly done. I’m surprised you didn’t bleed out in all honesty. And your armor’s going to need cleaning.”

He tossed the bandage aside, not paying attention to where the cloth landed and dragged his stool over to sit in front of the knight. Caked blood covered a good part of Jason’s torso and he watched the other man’s hands work to clean off the blood with a warm washcloth, dipping it in the bucket, wrung the cloth, then cleaned the blood. He repeated his actions in complete silence, brows furrowed and sleeves rolled up.

“Uh, sorry if this offends you, but can I ask your name?” Jason muttered.

“Timothy Drake, but you can just call me Tim. I don’t expect many people to know my name; after all, I’m just the healer’s understudy.”

“Speaking of which, where is Alfred?”

“He went to collect some medicinal plants and check up on a couple of staff. So you have lil’ ol’ me to take care of you.”

“Eh, that’s fine, I’m sure you’re gre--” he broke off with a hiss of pain at the pressure Tim applied to his wound.

“Keep the cloth there and I’ll go get some salv.” Tim removed himself from his seat and walked over to a shelf with jars, his robes swishing behind him elegantly.

That’s when Jason took notice of his small frame. Sure, the man stood just past Jason’s shoulder, but the belt around his waist suggested a lithe frame, not a skinny one. His hair flew in wisps while still being full and fluffy and he walked with an elegance that suggested he did not come from a low status; the walk was almost...princely.

As Tim turned around, Jason studied his facial features more closely. Tim’s face held a touch of delicacy to it while still remaining masculine, a strong jawline helping to define that; his eyes seemed to constantly hold a glimmer of curiosity and an assurance in his abilities.

Tim read the scrawl on the jar, oblivious to Jason and moved to sit down on the stool in front of the knight once more. He looked up to meet Jason’s eyes, then quirked a brow while still retaining eye contact.

“See something ya like?” he joked, failing to notice the pink that dusted Jason’s cheeks.

_ Yes, yes I do. And I don’t know if I want to bed you or you to bed me, _ Jason thought to himself, grateful for his lower-body armor at the moment.

“Alright, give me that cloth,” Tim ordered, holding out his hand. Jason gave it to him, exposing the gash on his shoulder. Tim had to leave his seat, crouching over Jason’s shoulder with Jason’s leg between his thighs, slathering the salv liberally on the gash.

Jason enjoyed the cooling sensation of the salv, closing his eyes momentarily and definitely not paying attention to Tim’s proximity...anywhere.

Too quickly for his liking, Tim pulled away, going to the table in the middle of the room and setting the jar down, then proceeded to wipe his hands with a hand towel sitting near the edge.

Tim turned around, a piece of wood covered in cloth in one hand with the other clutching the edge of the table and eyes staring intently at Jason.

“You’re not gonna be liking me much after this.” He made his way back to Jason, bending slightly at the waist to be eye-level with the knight, then held the piece of wood at each end with each hand.

“Bite down on this.” He moved it towards Jason’s mouth, but Jason pulled away.

“Why the hell should I do a thing like that?” the knight questioned.

Tim rolled his eyes and let out a huff of annoyance, something Jason found cute.

“Because,” the understudy responded, impatience creeping into his tone, “the depth of the wound requires cauterization. Cauterization isn’t pretty nor is it a pleasant experience.”

“How would you know?”

Tim shot Jason the most deadpan expression the knight ever laid eyes and Jason squirmed under the man’s gaze.

“Bite,” Tim barked, his tone leaving no room for questions.

Jason did as told, a snarl leaving his throat. Tim ignored him, straightening up and stalking over to the fire where a heated poker lay in the flames. Alfred always kept the fire going unless the temperature got too high for such an occasion, considering how reckless he finds the young knights to be.

Tim took a bunched towel and grasped the end of the poker, pulling out the item and stalking towards Jason, the red-hot tip ready to perform its duty.

Without warning, Tim placed the poker on Jason’s wound and the knight let out a growl that could rival a lion’s, biting down hard on the clothed wood.

Tim smirked, taking the poker off momentarily, flipped it over, then placed it back on the wound. The young understudy’s smirk never left his face as the knight let out a yelp followed by another growl. So, he might be enjoying this too much, but it’s not exactly harming anyone, now was it?

He lifted the poker off, then sauntered over back to the fireplace to place the poker back in the fireplace tool holder. Afterward, he grabbed a pile of clean cloth and gauze from a basket on a shelf then went back over to Jason.

The knight plucked the cloth-covered piece of wood from his mouth and set it beside him on the bench, eyes never leaving Tim. He tried to move his shoulder but bit back a shout as pain shot through his arm. He surprised himself by not passing out yet; his opponent got a very good jab at his shoulder.

“Alright, lift your arm half-way,” the understudy said. Jason did as told all the while watching the younger man carefully wrap and tie the bandages and gauze about the knight’s shoulder. 

Tim patted it twice, then leaned back slightly to look at the man in front of him, oblivious to the fact Jason’s knee divided Tim’s legs. The knight, however, stayed acutely aware and fought a blush.

“It shouldn’t be tied too tightly, so you’ll be able to move it enough to continue your daily activities. Unfortunately, you will have to halt your knight exercises and training for at  _ least _ two weeks,” Tim said lightly, both hands gripping his knees in a natural fashion.

Jason grumbled, obviously thoroughly displeased at the news.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim started, dismissively waving a hand, “it’s not pleasant news by any means”--here he got up and pulled his sleeves back down, then pushed in his stool under the table in the middle--”but it’s definitely better than being dead or slowly dying, no?” He turned back to the man addressed and Jason just nodded meekly, wanting to argue, but knew the other man had a point.

“And if I do see you practicing or roughly playing with any of the other knights, or anyone else in general, I’m going to have to report it to Alfred and I don’t think you want to be on the receiving end of that man’s disappointment.”

Jason swallowed; he’d seen Alfred around the castle since his childhood on the streets of Gotham Kingdom, and since Queen Diana took him in as a ward, Alfred regularly scared him. No, Jason didn’t want to receive that old man’s disappointed glare.

“Everything stated, noted, sir,” Jason spoke absently.

“Why are you calling me ‘sir’? I hardly matter in the regard, young knight,” Tim responded, confusion lacing his words while he studied a couple of herbs on the table and not bothering to face the other man.

“Uh, force of habit; you know how that is,” Jason said as he chuckled afterward, a blush spreading across his cheeks and bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck.

“I don’t believe I need to help you put on your undershirt or show you out, sir,” Tim stated, his voice muffled by having his back facing Jason.

“Yeah, right, I-I’m good.” The knight stood up. 

“Actually,” Tim started, turning in his feet to face Jason, “you might actually need help with your shirt.”

The understudy stood up, then strode back over to the bench. He grabbed the shirt, then helped Jason put the piece of clothing on, starting gently with the injured arm/shoulder first. The short duration met with a comfortable silence.

“Alright,  _ now  _ you should be good. You know where the door is, and head my warning,” Tim told Jason.

The knight’s actions consisted of simply nodding his head and allowing his feet to guide him to the exit.

***

The door slammed shut behind the knight and Tim let out a sigh of relief. So, what if he may or may not have a crush on the knight? He intended on no one finding out, so that meant burying his emotions and suffering the consequences until his inevitable death comes.

“You handled that quite well, young one.” Alfred’s voice drifted into the small room from the back doorway, startling Tim.

“Christ, Alfred,” the understudy yelped, clutching at his chest in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart. “How long have you  _ been _ there?”

“Since you told him to bite down on the clothed wood.”

“That long? I must be losing my touch. I blame you.”

“Why is that, young apprentice?”

“You make it feel too homey around here, too safe.”

“That’s a compliment. But my original statement still stands.”

“Yeah, well, when one goes through what I did, he learns a few things and becomes practical in the process.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out at my tumblr by the same name!
> 
> Leave a comment, kudos, or both!


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